


Blue Light

by siltoile



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, I Blame Tumblr, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:52:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siltoile/pseuds/siltoile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's not like Derek asked for Stiles to do it. In fact, Derek didn't have to say anything at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Light

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [blue light](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/21675) by bonehard. 



> All I could see in that gif set was Derek. Tell me that does not look like Derek! And I always do love Stiles on his knees for Derek.

It's not like Derek asked for Stiles to do it. In fact, Derek didn't have to say anything at all.  
  
Derek had stumbled into Stiles' house via the front door and threw himself on the couch. Stiles, ever jittery, rushed in after him. "Okay? We're good?" His hands making gestures while he actively searched his own house for his father. "Dad's not here, shocking with a rogue werewolf tearing up the town." He muttered under his breath.  
  
"Stiles." Derek bit out, pain ripping through his left side. He maneuvered himself so that he was sitting on the edge of the couch, head resting against the back cushions. His fingers unbuttoned the two remaining buttons left on his shirt and flung them to the side. His abdomen rose and fell with each pained breath. A gunshot wound from a 'confused' hunter slicing across his left side.  
  
"Oh, right!" Stiles moved into action, pulling out a wolfsbane bullet and pouring the contents on the coffee table. He then produced a lighter and lit it up. Derek took over from there and smashed all the powder into the bullet wound arcing across his side.  
  
It hurt like a motherfucker. He may or may not have groaned a little bit in pain. However much pain there was from stopping the spread of the wolfsbane, it quickly receded as his skin stitched itself back together.  
  
"Still gross, but still cool."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Stiles swallowed, "Right then. I'm going to my room. Feel free to hang around until morning, which is when we'll figure out a plan to get the rogue, sleep a little, eat a little. You know? Whatever. TV remote is behind your head, don't buy anything." Stiles stopped, thinking for a moment, then nodded, satisfied with his directions.  
  
Derek only acknowledged him with a grunt, and Stiles slunked off to his bedroom. Derek may or may not have stared at his hips swing until he disappeared from sight.  
  
Somewhere around one in the morning, Derek had stumbled onto an unblocked, non pay-per-view channel that had very suggestive images being shown. At first, it was a normal photo shoot, documentary thing for some clothing company. Men were dressed in nice Polo's and had on khaki shorts, the whole bit.  
  
Derek wasn't gay and he wasn't straight. In fact, labels meant nothing to him. He just genuinely appreciated human bodies, so watching young guys model was just as much of a turn on as watching the Victoria's Secret fashion show. Also, he hadn't had a real stress relieving orgasm in weeks, damn rogues, and he could feel his cock stirring in interest at the television's blue light.  
  
Then, they started to discard a piece of clothing every five minutes or so. When they were down to their boxers taking pictures, some douche bag decided that adding water would be a fantastic idea. So there he was, watching water sluicing down some young men's bodies that looked like Stiles'.  
  
He knew what Stiles was hiding under all those clothes. He wasn't ripped like he thought Derek was, but he was toned enough to see definitions on his body. The kind of definitions that the models had.  
  
Twenty minutes into it, Derek had to readjust himself, but his hand lingered a touch to long and he inhaled sharply. Hastily, he glanced toward Stiles' door, he was asleep, and he made the decision to remove his pants.  
  
He kicked the black jeans to the side and got himself comfortable, legs spread wide, hand on his growing cock. Derek intently watched the young men writhe, lean, and arch into the water as a photographer took pictures. There was a young man that looked an awful lot like Stiles that decided to join the party.  
  
The guy had pale skin, freckles, even if Stiles had moles, tufts of brown hair, and hazel eyes, but Stiles' were honey. Anyway, the guy had on low-slung shorts and he was dripping wet. As the narrator told of different techniques photographers use, there was a series of slow motion shots of him. A few seconds of water trailing down his chest, then his abs, his arms, throat, face with a hungry expression on it, and, finally, his hips.  
  
Derek squeezed his cock harder, dragging his fist up and down in almost a brutal way. He kept imagining water running down Stiles throat and hips, disappearing into boxers where Derek would push them out of the way. His breath came in pants, abdomen dancing with each inhalation, and he thrusted into his own fist.  
  
He would then take Stiles' already leaking cock in hand and jerk him softly before sinking to his knees. He would take Stiles' whole cock in his mouth, making Stiles grab his hair roughly and pull. Next, he would drag his teeth across the head ever so lightly, just enough to tease and hum. Stiles wouldn't be able to take it much longer, and that's why, at that point, he would reach between his cheeks and press against his hole. Just press, then with lubed fingers, he would sink them into the hole and seek out his prostate.  
  
He wouldn't just brush it though, oh no. He would continuously rub against it while, simultaneously, deep throating Stiles young cock. He could hear how Stiles would beg for more, how he would smell so damn good, and how he would look right before he--  
  
"Derek?" Stiles asked blearily.  
  
The werewolf froze, hand wrapped around his obscenely leaking cock.  
  
"What're you doing?" He asked, shuffling for a glass of ice water. From the kitchen, Stiles couldn't see the way Derek was panicking because on one hand, if he let go of himself, he wouldn't be able to get anything covered up in time, or with much grace, before Stiles saw it. And on the other hand, if he did nothing, Stiles would see it. There was no winning in the situation.  
  
Stiles shuffled back, still trying to stay in the haze of asleep and awake. The teenager then tripped a little and his eyes shot open as he caught himself. He went rigid. Stiles saw Derek, practically naked, cock in hand, and staring at Stiles.  
  
The television went on playing the documentary while Derek could smell the arousal coming off in waves from Stiles. His pupils dilated almost immediately and he could see where his cock was quickly hardening in his loose pajama pants.  
  
Without even thinking, Stiles stepped in between Derek's spread thighs and sunk to his knees. He then carefully removed Derek's tight grip and replaced it with his own light one. He then brought the cold water to his lips and suck in an ice cube. The teenager's lips were spreading around the head of the werewolf's cock.  
  
It took everything Derek had not to thrust immediately up into the hot, yet cold, mouth of the human. He had heard of the ice cube trick, but didn't know it actually worked, and it did work. "Fuck!" Derek moaned out, hands clenching on the couch's material.  
  
Stiles pulled off, Derek did not whine, and he crushed the ice cube between his teeth and swallowed it down. He then descended back down and took as much as he could deep into his throat.  
  
Derek wasn't monstrously big, but he was larger than many a porn star Stiles had seen.  
  
Derek did buck then, hands threading into the brown hair. "God yes! Stiles! Fu-" Stiles took it, he let Derek use his mouth, in an almost brutal fashion, for a moment. Then Stiles firmly pushed Derek's hips down to the sofa and he then began a series of long, slow, humming bobs  
  
It was torturous. Derek resisted throwing his head back in light of memorizing how Stiles looked at that moment. His flushed cheeks, bruised, red lips stretched beautifully around his cock, hungry, honey eyes that stared right back at him, and the blue light from the television highlighting Stiles' ass. An ass that  ground into the air as he sucked Derek off.  
  
Stiles had reached the top of Derek's cock again, still holding eye contact, when Derek scratched his hands right along Stiles' scalp. The teen's eyes rolled back into his head and his jaw fell slack. Almost instantly, Derek thrusted up into it and came down Stiles throat.  
  
At first, Derek was scared that he would choke Stiles, but then the human greedily gulped down every last drop until there wasn't anything left to drink.  
  
Stiles pulled off and sat on his heels. While he drank his whole glass of water, Derek came down from his orgasm. When he could focus enough, he saw that Stiles kept glancing at his half-hard cock, lust swarming in his eyes, but Derek had a better idea. He pulled Stiles onto the couch, removed his clothes and did just what he imagined he would do to him.  
  
He would be sure to have them shower later. Mostly so he could watch water trickle down Stiles' body while he fucked him into the shower wall.

**Author's Note:**

> This may or may not have something to do with my sleep deprivation.


End file.
